


Exchanges

by Dragonsigma



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Banter, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsigma/pseuds/Dragonsigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Such teasing was frequent between them. It had long since lost the trace of venom it had carried at the beginning of their acquaintance. A different thing altogether now, though still cloaked in the comforting distance of the formal register. And if it occasionally implied things maybe too personal for propriety, there was nobody around to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchanges

Lieutenant Beshelar had spent the evening in training, taking Captain Vizhenka up on his offer to teach the Untheileneise Guard in the favored weapons of the Hezhethora. 

The lessons were not over until late into the night. An unusual time for military exercises, to be sure, but those who defended royalty must keep odd hours without complaint. 

Cala, who had little interest in armed combat, had disappeared off somewhere shortly after ceding his place to Kiru, and Beshelar hadn't spared a thought to how his partner in duty would have been occupying his time until he returned to their shared quarters.

He opened the door and found Cala sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, head cradled in his arms, eyes closed, spectacles askew and hair half out of its braid.

His first thought, irrationally, was that Cala must be ill, or that somebody had entered the room unnoticed and attacked him, and the spark of worry those images conjured was unsettling.

But Cala was only asleep, over a book of magic or philosophy or whatever it was he read so much of.

"Fool of a maza," Beshelar muttered, and there was rather more affection in the words than he had truly intended to express.

Cala stirred, raised his head, blinking, and brushed stray hair from his face. "What's the time?"

"Late enough. You ought to sleep."

"We believe that is what we were doing," Cala said drily, replacing his spectacles. Clearly it would take more than fatigue to dull Cala’s wit.

"In a bed, as any respectable person would. Unless you wish to be ill-prepared for duty?" Perhaps that last was unfair, but there was no other way to satisfactorily express his disapproval at Cala's neglecting himself sufficiently to fall asleep over his books like a harried novice. Beshelar spared a moment to wonder what sort of absurd schedule Cala would keep if left to his own devices. Certainly nothing reasonable.

"As if being struck repeatedly with various sticks and blades is any better for one's health," Cala returned. Such remarks were not, Beshelar had finally learned, an attack on his career. Only the trade of one well-meant insult for another.

"We would hope that you respect our skill enough to believe we were doing a fair portion of the striking."

“Ah, were you? That is good to hear.” Cala feigned disinterest as he slipped page-markers into his books and folded away his notes. Not that it resulted in any significant change to the ever-present clutter. Whatever system of organization Cala used, and there must  _ be _ a system, for he never seemed to have any difficulty in finding what he was looking for, was beyond Beshelar’s worldly comprehension.

“And what is it that you have been doing?” Beshelar finally asked.

“Research. On a strain of spells from the era of Edrevenivar, never successfully replicated."

“Surely crucial to the security of the realm."

“If we can decipher their workings, they will offer much." 

“If only your concern with times long past would translate to consideration of the clock,” Beshelar said, before Cala could launch into an explanation of some arcane aspect of magic that Beshelar had no hope of ever understanding. The statement served also to bring them back to the matter at hand: that Cala clearly needed sleep, and studying ancient spells was no substitute. 

“We cannot help but notice that you are also still awake at this hour."

“Your concern is-" - _ irritating, touching-  _ “admirable, but we are not the one falling asleep at our work,” Beshelar said, pushing aside the the deep-seated desire to bodily  _ move _ Cala into a position better suited for ensuring his compliance.

“Evidently." Cala shrugged. "Such would be awkward, we imagine, with weapons in your hands."

Such teasing was frequent between them. It had long since lost the trace of venom it had carried at the beginning of their acquaintance. A different thing altogether now, though still cloaked in the comforting distance of the formal register. And if it occasionally implied things maybe too personal for propriety, there was nobody around to hear.

“And we have put those weapons away, and will be taking steps to prevent such an occurrence.” It was a clumsy retort, and it startled a laugh from Cala.

“‘Taking steps?’ Wilt have to talk more elegantly than that, my friend, if thou wishest to impress.” The look in his eyes was fond amusement, and Beshelar wondered if that could be considered a desirable outcome to the conversation after all.

“But we agree,” Cala continued, "it is well past time for us both to be sleeping."

They traded a few more remarks before retiring, nothing of substance. And if something in Beshelar wished that the conversation had gone somewhat differently, it was of no significance at all.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the banter fic. This started as an on-the-fly thing written for the IRC folks, so I'm hoping it holds together as a story.
> 
> Join the tiny fandom discussion and RP at http://www.slashnet.org/webclient/thegoblinemperor


End file.
